


Choice

by Dwimor



Category: Star Wars, Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Choice, Consent, F/M, Freedom of Choice, Motherhood, NO FRIDGES HERE SHMI LIVES AND HER BOYS ARE GOING TO SWOOP IN IN THIS SERIES, Slavery, Tattooine Slave Culture, Trigger warning dub con, tattooine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:29:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26999707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dwimor/pseuds/Dwimor
Summary: Shmi’s thoughts, on being “romanced” and purchased by Cliegg. He’s not a bad man, just ignorant. Not cruel, but kind. She did not love him, but she did care for him. Shmi deserves at least that much.
Relationships: Shmi Skywalker/Cliegg Lars
Comments: 2
Kudos: 60





	Choice

**Author's Note:**

> This is a bit more unedited than I would have liked, and I don’t feel I got everything articulated that I wanted to, but I finally wrote it.

The boy was about the same age as her Ani would be. He was wringing his hands, but staying still beside the fruit stall, eyes darting back and forth over the market. He was thickly built, and well fed, with the plump cheeks of a youngling who was cared for. 

The Togrutan Spacer that had drawn her attention to the boy was still standing outside the cantina across the market, his eyes fixed on him, a predator considering prey. Shmi sighed, and whisper soft steps brought her to the boy’s side. 

The boy jumped when she spoke, whirling to face her.

“I said, where are your guardians? It isn’t safe for a youngling like you to be alone in the city.”

The boy’s eyes were wide as he began wringing the hem of his simple but well made desert tunic. He looked her over, then relaxed slightly, apparently deeming her no threat. Not very wise, then. Anyone could be a threat. 

“My father is buying parts for the vaporators, but we got separated and the speeder isn’t where he parked it. He told me to wait by it if I got lost. I don’t know where he is!” The boy ended with a squeak. 

“I will stay with you until he finds you,” Shmi stated, the finality in her tone reassuring the boy as she settled into the shade next to him, cross legged. Watto had sent her on deliveries; a repaired droid and machine parts requested by his customers, and the collection of the second half of payment. On Tattooine you paid at least half up front.

Despite her pockets heavy with money, Shmi was not going to leave the boy to the tender mercies of whoever happened across him while his neglectful father did Ar-Amu knew what.

…

Cliegg Lars was frantic. His speeder had been impounded, his boy Owen was nowhere to be found and the suns were beginning to set. His last ditch effort to find his son brought him to one of the smaller markets on the seedier side of town. 

He nearly sobbed in relief. Owen was seated against a closed up stall, a ragged looking woman next to him, dark eyes sharp and watchful as he napped against her shoulder. She stiffened, her attention fixed on Cliegg as he approached at speed, her unburdened arm moving slightly, her hand hovering around her boot. 

“Owen!” Cliegg called. 

The boy woke with a start, but his eyes found his father, relief clear on his face as he hopped up and hugged him. Cliegg looked over at the woman as she gracefully lifted herself from the ground, and dusted off her robes.

"Thank you for watchng my son! I would hate to think of what could have happened to him without you," Cliegg smiled.

The woman straightened, and focused her gaze on his shoulder.

"I wouldn't ever leave a child to fend for itself in this city," she murmured, the rich tone to her voice obscuring their slightly judgemental message. Her face was blank, but Cliegg had the feeling he was being censured.

"My transport was impounded and I lost track of my Owen in the bustle.” Owen said. "It would be my pleasure to buy you a meal at the local cantina to show my gratitude."

"My master is waiting for me. I am already late."

Oh.

"I will come with you then, to explain to your master the good deed you have done," Cliegg decided. "What is your name?"

"Shmi."

...

The Toydarian junk shop dealer was in a righteous fury. His only slave had dissapeared, his money and product with her. Cliegg had been able to talk him down, however, from doing something rash like calling the local enforcers to mete out a punishment. Through the argument, the woman had stood silent, those eyes lowered, face blank.

...

If Cliegg ended up at Watto's junk shop nearly every time he came to town after that day, well, no one could blame the widower. Shmi was like a rock formation in the desert, calm, solid, permanent. That was the best analogy he could think of anyway.

He'd heard the junk dealer was in some debt, his penchant for gambling causing him grief, and Cliegg's heart stopped at the thought of Shmi being sold on. It had only been the equivelant of three months, but he was attatched. She would be good for his son, as well. . .

...

Shmi felt a little more sick every time the moisture farmer came by the shop, a sour feeling in her gut whenever he spoke to her kindly, or offered her fruits from the market. She did not have the power to say no, Watto had no objections as the man bought something small every visit, and she did not know how to say it, anyway.

She felt indebted. What would she be asked or forced to do in appreciation for these gifts of food and kind speech? What did he want from her? Would she be rented for the evening? Or did he wish for a compliant house slave who would tend to the house, his bed, and his son? Would he be angry if he sensed her reluctance?

His eyes sought hers whenever they met. His hands were large, but he never raised them in threat. He spoke TO her, instead of AT her, and if his eyes lingered on her form when she moved about the shop, well. Her body wasn't hers to blush about, anyway. She was too old to worry about that now.

Little Ani. . . He could find her if Cliegg bought her and kept her. She didn't think he would sell her on. Watto was having money troubles, so she would be going either way. Better to be a house slave not far from Watto's than sold offworld or somewhere worse.

...

You're free. The words echoed in Shmi's head, dully, as she stared at the blank wall of Cliegg's kitchen. He'd had her for one day before he proudly announced her new status. What was she supposed to do with that? She didn't even know where she would go (find Ani?), besides the fact she had no money, no weapons, no transport, no clothing, no food, no water of her own. Ar-Amu bless the stupid man.

She owed him anyway. He'd been kind. She had no choice really, nowhere else to go.

When Shmi accepted his proposal of "staying and getting to know each other better," (Shmi privately liked to call it getting it the Kriff over with) Cliegg had been ecstatic, even more so when after a month he proposed they share water - that hadn't been what he called it, but the man didn't know the ways of the Amavikka - and she accepted. He wouldn't harm her, this she knew.

He would be kind to her. That was something she had never before allowed herself to hope for, so she became his wife. If their few freeborn neighbors thought her odd in her quietness, and her trips alone into the desert, well. It didn’t matter. Cliegg did not mind her ways, did not ask for more than her smiles, her presence, her care. She could not give him more. Her mind and heart were the only things that were hers, and no one else would ever have them.


End file.
